Quotes About Humanity

I think it's more a kind of fever, Nobody really wants it, but all of a sudden, there it is. We didn't want the war, they say the same thing on the other side – and in spite of that, half the world is at it hammer and tongs. - Albert Kropp

Dugo traje dok ?ovek ne prestane da se trza, ma to bilo i mehani?ki, kao ono žablja noga i galvanska struja. Tek kad se potpuno rastane, po?inje stvarno da se zanima za ono što se ti?e drugih. Jedan paradoks ljubavi.

They used to tie us to a tree, but that is forbidden now. In many ways we are treated quite like men. An

And this is only one hospital, one single station; there are hundreds of thousands in Germany, hundreds of thousands in France, hundreds of thousands in Russia. How senseless is everything that can ever be written, done, or thought, when such things are possible. It must be all lies and of no account when the culture of a thousand years could not prevent this stream of blood being poured out, these torture-chambers in their hundreds of thousands. A hospital alone shows what war is. I

Nekad dz?v? nepietiek, un t? tas ir katram. Laikam gan vienm?r ir par maz, un t? ir pasaules nelaime.

I think it is more of a kind of fever, says Albert. No one in particular wants it, and then all at once there it is. We didn't want the war, the others would say the same thing--and yet half the world is in it all the same.

Erich Maria Remarque

Laikam gan katrs k?dam bija labs cilv?ks. Un k?dam tieši pret?ji.

?udna stvar'', mislim, ''videli smo toliko mrtvaca u ratu, i znamo da nas je dva miliona beskorisno palo - zašto smo onda tako uzbu?eni zbog jednog jedinog, a dva miliona smo ve? skoro zaboravili?'' No to je valjda zato što je pojedinac uvek smrt - a dva miliona uvek samo statistika.

We have become wild beasts. We do not fight, we defend ourselves against annihilation. It is not against men that we fling our bombs, what do we know of men in this moment when Death is hunting us down - now for the first time in three days we can see his face, now for the first time in three days we can oppose him . . . No longer do we lie helpless . . . we can destroy and kill, to save ourselves, to save ourselves and to be revenged.

Leur existence est anonyme et sans culpabilité; si j'en savais davantage sur leur compte, c'est-à-dire comment ils s'appellent, comment ils vivent, ce qu'ils attendent, ce qui les oppresse, mon émotion aurait un but concret et pourrait devenir de la compassion. Mais je n'éprouve ici, derrière eux, que la douleur de la créature, l'épouvantable mélancolie de l'existence et l'absence de pitié qui caractérisent les hommes.

509 sat down with his back to the barrack wall. It had still kept some warmth from the sun. Bucher came and sat down beside him. Strange, he said. Sometimes hundreds die and one doesn't feel anything, and then a single man dies, one who doesn't even concern us much—and it seems as though it were a thousand. 509 nodded. Imagination cannot count. And feeling does not grow stronger through numbers. It can never count beyond one. One—but that's enough if one feels it.

The whole world ought to pass by this bed and say: "That is Franz Kemmerich, nineteen and a half years old, he doesn't want to die. Let him not die!

QÉ™ribÉ™dir... SevÉ™n adam da... ÖlÉ™rmiÅŸ...

Pärast sõja lõppu pole enam mingit rahu olnud. Ja ometi ei tahtnud meist keegi midagi muud peale rahu. Meeletu maailm!

Melanholi?an postaje ?ovek kad razmišlja o životu, a cini?an kad vidi kako ve?ina ljudi postupa.

Lenz sat in the Stutz and we drove slowly off. I held my handkerchief to my nose and looked out over the evening fields and into the sinking sun. There was an immense, unshakeable peace in it, and one felt how utterly indifferent nature was to anything that this evil-tempered ant-heap called humanity might choose to do in the world.

The misery of millions is too big a price to pay for the heroics of a few.

I tell you it is the vilest baseness to use horses in the war.

We are little flames, inadequately sheltered by thin walls from the tempest of dissolution and insensibility in which we flicker and often are all but extinguished.

Because none can ever wholly feel what another suffers—is that the reason why wars perpetually recur?

Aber das ist wohl so, weil ein einzelner immer der Tod ist — und zwei Millionen immer nur eine Statistik.

Stvarnost budi zelje, ali nikad ne moze da ih zadovolji. Ljubav pocinje u covjeku, ali se nikad ne svrsava u njemu. Cak i kad je sve tu: i covjek, i ljubav i sreca i zivot, jos uvijek je sve to, po nekom strasnom udesu, suvise malo, i sto vece izgleda, sve manje biva.

Omul fericit este mai în m?sur? s? simt? compasiune pentru alÈ›ii.Cel fericit simte cu mai mult? intensitate nefericirea decât cel fericit.Chiar dac? ajunge uÈ™or la contrarul ei.?i mulÈ›i dintre cei care fac haz de nefericirea lor se complac, în fond, în ea.